Black, White, and Red all over
by Digicowboy
Summary: Chapter 3 - 'Filler? I 'Ardly knew 'er' now up! Whilst Digicowboy is too busy to rewrite chapter three, he puts up a filler chapter! Can our friends escape the police AND parody Tribute by Tenacious D?
1. Whump'

Wow, my first pokemon fic that I actually judge to be net-worthy. (My first pokefic was written many years ago when I was about 13, and mainly involved the mistreatment of Ash Ketchum, and I avoided the subject since) I hope you enjoy it. Not so much Rocket Shipping as maybe Rocket Kayaking, but hey. Also, I don't know if James' last name IS LeBlanc, but I've seen it used in other fics and, to be perfectly honest, I'm not going to lose any sleep over it.

Disclaimer: 

*DC walks along a street of some description, walking along whistling happily and wearing a jacket with 'I own Pokemon' written on the back. Suddenly, he is leapt upon by a rabid gang of Nintendo vampires and beaten horribly with issues of Nintendo power. When he regains consciousness, he discovers the jacket…is gone…*

BLACK, WHITE, AND RED ALL OVER

Chapter One – 'Whump'

James Leblanc's life began to change one sunny day with an abrupt 'whump', which was accompanied by a gust of wind that blew Jessie's hair straight out behind her. She looked up from her ground-staring based scheming, and looked over here right shoulder, where James there was not. 

Which would not perhaps have been so disconcerting if James was not to be there. However, since James was meant to be there, or, at the very least, that was where James had been last time she looked, Jessie was puzzled indeed by the void to her right that displayed all the properties for being an absence of James. She looked over her left shoulder just to make sure he wasn't there, and there he was not. Jessie frowned, and stopped walking. She certainly didn't remember digging any trap-holes in this road, but maybe she had done it in her sleep. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. She looked around behind her to check the road for sudden holes. Or James, whichever presented itself first.

 As it transpired, there were no gaping holes in the road, but to her consternation, what she did see was James' legs thrashing helplessly beneath a rather large orange, black, and white beast. He was being attacked by a wild Pokemon!

'Meowth!' 

The Feline in question looked up from his newspaper, which he had found yesterday wrapped around the fish and chips they had liberated from what James had insisted was 'A Facist Chipshop Regime'. The paper was only a few days old, and Meowth had decided to try and catch up with recent, vinegary events.

'Huh?'

'James! He's being savaged by an Arcanine thingy!' Jessie dithered, hopping uncertainly from foot to foot. On the one hand, she'd rather James wasn't horribly mauled by a large fire breathing dog, but on the other hand, she wanted to be mauled by a large fire breathing dog even less.

'James? Savaged? Arcanine? Being? An? He's? By? Thingy?' Meowth asked distractedly. 'Well, it ain't nothin' he ain't already used ta, tanks to Victribell.' He commented, returning his attention to an article in the paper detailing the chase and capture of a pair of Rockets, 'Believed to be the infamous Butch and Cassidy', who had stolen several painstakingly gathered crates of Evolution stones, and made off in a waiting Helicopter. They had been pursued by a group of Pidgeot riding police officers, who successfully captured the two poke-terrorists, although several crates of Evolution Stones had been lost in the process. With Butch and Cassidy at least temporarily incapacitated, Meowth wondered idly if there were going to be any more high profile, high risk jobs coming their way. Doubtful, he thought, given how low they ranked in the bosses esteem.

 Meanwhile, Jessie stopped her dithering when she realised with a bone chilling fear that, y'know, chilled her bones and stuff that James hadn't let out a single scream or cry for help! Could he be stunned? Winded? Unconscious? Braver than she thought? Stupider than she thought? Any or all were possibilities, and she bolted forward to aid her steadfast companion and long-time friend, willing to risk life, limb, and painstakingly styled hair to do so. And then she heard a sound that stopped her dead in her tracks. Well, obviously not actually dead, because that would be counterproductive to the plot, such as it is, and not actually stopped, because she already had a pretty good momentum going for a less in a miniskirt that could conceivably be mistaken for a thick belt, and she skidded a good half a metre before she ceased forward motion.  

 But regardless. 

The sound that she heard that astonished her was James' rather unique giggle. Now, Jessie was not an expert on feral dog-type attacks, but she was pretty sure the victim wasn't meant to be giggling like that. In that particular mixture of caution and curiosity that only slightly injured the proverbial Meowth, she crept forward. The Arcanine was enthusiastically licking James' face with a tongue roughly the size of the cardboard tube you find at the centre of a kitchen roll. Now that she was in a clearer mental state to pick out details, she realised that the Arcanine's tail was wagging hard enough to sweep the leaves clear of the dirt behind it. James, in turn, had his hands lost in the Pokemon's mane, stroking its head and neck happily.

 'Are you going to introduce us to your new friends?' Jessie asked acidly. James pushed the slobbering head away, tussling with it playfully as he flashed an innocently joyous smile at her. That was one of the things about James, Jessie noted. When he was happy, everyone knew about it.

'I don't have a clue.' He admitted airily 'But aren't we just getting along fabulously?' 

Without warning, the Arcanine flipped itself onto its back and looked imploringly up at James.

'Do you want your tummy scratched? Yes you do, don't you?' James cooed, obliging it and simultaneously proving once and for all that extended association with dogs affects the brain in mysterious ways.

 'My Growlithe loved this too.' He explained, catching a glimpse at Jessie's expression of mixed confusion and resignation. The Arcanine barked happily, and since having a 6'03" Dog, weighing in at 342 lbs bark loudly in your ear is quite an experience, James sat down heavily, with the air of one who thinks they might have gone temporarily deaf. 

 Meowth, who by this time was standing warily behind Jessie, had been piecing things together. Or, has he would have put it, 'Toggeda'

'James, ain't your fancy house round here somewhere?'

'What? Uh…about two or three days that way?' James guessed uncomfortably. He had been trying not to think about the proximity of The Dreaded Jessiebelle. Meowth nodded thoughtfully. 

'So if da paper is a coupla days old, and if it'd take ya about tree days ta travel dere by foot…Say, James, what was da nickname of ya Growlithe?'

'But I've told you before, Meowth.' James pointed out, puzzled and rubbing the Arcanine's belly again.

'Indulge me, wouldja?'

'Growly.'

At that name, the Arcanine twisted onto its legs and leapt at James, nuzzling and slobber-bathing him with renewed enthusiasm. Finally, understanding glowed in James' green eyes, coupled with hope and, most probably, mild concussion. 

'Do you mean…Could this be…Growly?' he asked wistfully. 

'Reckon so, James. Take a look at dis!' Meowth said, tossing him the paper, some deepdown genetic instinct telling him that it might not yet be a good idea to go over to James, who quickly scanned the article and took in the relevant points, as well as the lingering smell of potato-based goodness doused in enough salt and vinegar to incapacitate trainers with lesser constitutions that our blundering, bike-ganging bullies, to use alliteration. 

'Well?' Meowth said impatiently.

'The smell is making my eyes water.'

'Da article, ya yutz.'

'Oh. Well, it certainly all fits, but…There's only one way to find out!' He said decisively, standing up. 'Meowth, hand me my phone!'

'Ya don't have a phone.'

'Good work, Meowth! In that case, to the nearest town! Jessie, hand me the keys to our top secret ROCKETMOBILE!'

'We don't have a "Rocketmobile" either, Einstein.'

'Oh…Then I guess we walk, right?'

'Right.'

'Good.'

'You're really on form today aren't ya, James?'

'Oh, shush.'

Later, in the nearest town, James was struggling with small change in a phone booth that had become intensely crowded with Jessie and Meowth in there as well, as well as the Arcanine trying to force it's way in as well. Finally, he succeeded in dialing the number and inserting the change, and waited for somebody to pick up. Happily, this did not take long. 

'Hello? Leblanc estate.' Came an elderly voice, who James recognised at once. Unfortunately, he realised he had been away so long he had actually succeeded in forgetting the name of the butler.

'Hello…Butler.' He said cheerfully, desperately racking his brain for the man's name. 

Well, obviously not actually rack-torturing his brain for information, because…Oh, you get the idea.

'Master James! Is this really you?'

'Of course its me, Mr…uh…Butler.'

'You've never called home before! Have you decided to come home? Are you in trouble? What's wrong?'

 James laughed nervously. 

'Oh, please. I don't need an excuse to phone my…Butler…do I? I was just wondering how everyone was. You know, mother, father, Growly…'

His voice crackled through the speakers hidden in one of her numerous dressers. The Leblancs recorded and tapped all incoming phonecalls as a matter of course, and she blessed her good fortune that she had left the equipment on. A faint smile crossed her lips, and had James been there, he would have called it sinister. But then again, James would not have been there for any reason, so call it sinister if you wish. Or not.

'Jacobson?'

'Yes, ma'am?'

'Be a dahlin' an' trace the call fer liddle' ole' me, wouldja hun?'

'Of course, ma'am.' The butler bowed slightly and left

'Ya won't be getting' away from me again, James Leblanc. We will be married, and soon, ah'll know where ya are.' Jessiebelle whispered contentedly, and began to brush her hair in measured, even strokes. As she always did, as she had been told to do, and how she would soon be telling James to do…

TO BE CONTINUED! At some point. *Coughs*

Well, there we go. Let me know and such.

 Oh, and just to clarify a coupla points for people, I'm not insulting dogs or dog owners. Being one myself (A Dog-owner, not a dog), I'm allowed to take pot-shots. And such and such.

 Well, peace out, check out my other stuff if you feel particularly inclined to, and I'll catch you later!

 DC 


	2. Theoretical Oven

BLACK, WHITE, AND RED ALL OVER

DC: Hey, welcome back to BWARAO, the Pokémon story with less Muk for your Buck. I hope you enjoy part two…If you didn't read part one, what on earth are you doing here? Back, I say, Back!

Disclaimer: * DC, slightly bruised by the assault from the Nintendo Lawyers, walks down a different street, singing 'Pokémon Johto' at the top of his lungs. Suddenly, he is set upon by a vicious group of Magicarp who rough him over and, when he wakes up, his voice has been stolen by a renegade Jigglypuff! Tune in next chapter for more…DISCLAIMERS OF INTEREST!* 

Chapter two: The Theoretical Oven

James listened attentively to his Butler, which is to say that he nodded, went 'uh-huh?' every so often, and pretty well listened with half an ear to what the Butler was saying about the wellbeing of his parents – a pointless topic, James thought, being morbidly convinced that his parents that his parents would probably live forever just so they could keep trying to hammer a square peg into a round hole, so to speak – the wellbeing of Jessiebelle (Sickeningly healthy), the wellbeing of the family's accounts (Numerous and bursting with cash, as ever), the damage done to the roof a few days previously by what they were assuming was a largely unexplained hailstorm, the rocks that had mysteriously appeared on the lawn the day afterwards and the subsequent dismissal of the head gardener. Oh, and Growly's sudden silence and apparent desire for solitude.

 Hold that thought. 

'What was that about Growly?' James interjected, glancing out of the side of the booth at the Arcanine, who had eventually given up trying to get into the booth with the Rockets, for whom it was crowded enough anyway, thank you very much for asking.

'Oh, it's most odd, master James. After the hailstorm, the Chief Butler To The Dog  found that some of those peculiar stones had broken through a few of the windows in the Dog House. One of them was in his favourite basket, or so I'm told, and we think he's just a bit shocked, to be honest. Since then, we haven't seen hide nor hair of him, and he's apparently been off of his food.'

'Really? Butler, let my parents know that I'll be stopping by to check on Growly soon.' James lied glibly, his voice dripping with thick oozy ladles of concern, as opposed to, say, thick oozy ladles of Gravy or, for any vegetarians in the readership, thick oozy ladles of Tomato soup, hoping against hope that it would buy them some time to get away. He was well aware of his family's potential reach and influence, and more importantly, their habit of tracing and recording phone calls. If they believed that he would be coming back soon of his own free will, perhaps his father wouldn't be so hasty to set 'the boys' on his trail to drag him back, kicking and screaming, into the lap of luxury and the arms of Jessiebelle. _There's_ a mental image for you, although the luxurious qualities of Jessiebelle's lap are, at this point, unspecified.

He put the receiver down with a definite 'click', and turned, with some difficulty in the crowded phone booth, to face his team-mates who had been, for once, relatively quiet when he was making the call. They looked at him expectantly, and he nodded exuberantly. 

'They haven't seen him since the night of the Evolution Stone heist.' He grinned, eyes sparkling. Jessie looked, it had to be said, less than impressed, even for Jessie.

'Ok, great. It's Growly, but what now?' she asked, and James paused mid previously unmentioned 'Victory Boogie'. Since they had begun their twerp-chasing mission, there had been no accomplishments for the Victory Boogie, but James had felt that this was a suitable occasion. Jessie's shrewd question, though, threw him somewhat off his tracks. What now indeed? 

 Obviously, he was as pleased as a Politoed on Prozac to be reunited with his Growly, but how would it affect things long-run? He could probably get it back home, but would they believe that it was indeed Growly? Besides which, he had run for two or three days across open terrain until Growly had chanced to catch his scent, which, to James, seemed to be a rather good indication that his faithful pet was not altogether eager to go back to the mansion.. James could certainly sympathise. And because James was absolutely not going to leave Arcanine alone, it looked like Team Rocket had a new member. The problem was going to be the bills. The Rockets could normally only afford the bare minimum of food for themselves and their Pokémon at the best of times, and James had a sneaking suspicion that Arcanine had an appetite like an industrial incinerator. 

'Ummmmm…' he trailed off. Jessie nodded.

You bet your intriguing purple hairstyle that it's 'Umm' time!'

'Yeah! How were ya plannin' to feed dat Bulldozer over dere along wid da rest of us? We can't eat, ah, I dunno, snow for da rest of our lives!' Meowth interjected. 

'Well, actually…'

'We all know enough about ya dramatic past, Jessie.' Meowth sighed, rolling his eyes. He brightened up as an idea came to him, as ideas are wont to do when the situation calls for ideas.

'Hey, I knows! Why don't we just send it to da boss? He'd take good care of it!'  

James looked doubtful. He wasn't absolutely sure he liked the sound of that idea, but it would indeed solve a lot of the problems that were currently troubling him.

One change of costume, a couple of slick acts of pickpocketry, a Smog attack and a further change of costume later, our terrible trio (Although, should we now consider them a crazy quartet? Probably.) were back in and by aaphone box,  James opting to stay outside with Growly, with enough 'spare' change to call the Boss. That is to say, it was now spare change. The people who had been holding it up to a few minutes previously may have had other plans for it, perhaps a vague idea about say, buying an ice-cream or, depending on the season, roasted chestnuts and toffee apples. But in the almost perpetual summer of the Pokéworld, it's more likely to be ice-cream, let's face it. Ignorant of this fact, or at least uncaring about people's desires for ice-cream, Jessie dropped the coins into the coin slot of the telephone, and dialled the number of the Boss, the Big Cheese, The Fat Cat, The Who-is-the-daddy of Team Rocket, Giovanni himself.

'Hello?' He snapped, obviously not recognising the number.

'Uh, good afternoon, sir!' Jessie trilled nervously.

'Good God, that was fast!' Giovanni marvelled. Jessie blinked and shook her head, slightly derailed by this seemingly random change of conversational direction.

'Pardon, sir?' she asked sweetly.

'I only just a second ago told Mondo to "Get that pair of idiots you're so enamoured with to contact me as soon as possible", and here you are. Promotion for Mondo, then.'

'Uh, actually sir, we haven't heard from Mondo in a few weeks.'

'Scratch that promotion, then.'

'It might be for the best sir, yes.' Agreed Jessie, less than thrilled about the idea of taking orders from someone several years her junior. 'We called because-'

'Whatever it is, it can wait. I want all three of you in Viridian city gym for exactly noon tomorrow for a review, do you understand?'

'Yes, sir.' She said meekly. There was a pause.

'Jessie?'

'Yes, sir?'

'Get off of the phone. You have places to be, remember?'

'Yes, sir. Goodbye, sir.' Jessie said through teeth that were only slightly gritted, putting down the receiver and mentally demoting Giovanni from 'Boss' to 'Charred smoking hole in the middle of Jessie's new office'

'Well, what did he say?' asked James anxiously, crouching down beside his childhood companion, arms lost to the elbows in Growly's thick hair as Jessie and Meowth stepped out of the booth.

'I didn't get a chance to tell him about Growly.' She admitted. 'He wants us in Viridian city gym by noon tomorrow for a review.' James yelped involuntarily, and rightly so. Last time they had gone in for review, they had had their pay cut in half and Giovanni had said some very hurtful things about their progress.

'Ain't dat da trooth.' Agreed Meowth, and not for the first time James wished that the Pokémon would be shot for crimes against the English language. Although he was willing to admit that it was a miracle in itself that the Scratch-cat type had learned to speak, he did wish he didn't sound so consistently like a cab-driver. He had tried to teach his Weezing to speak English, but he had rather given up on that when the poison-type had vomited acid all over the textbook.  

'More importantly, how on earth are we meant to get to Viridian city in that time?' Jessie asked, fuming inwardly at the Boss and his overbearing attitude. 'We don't have any flying Pokémon, we don't have any Psychic Pokémon, we don't even have James's "Rocketmobile"! We'll never make it in time!'

The Rockets sighed, and began to wander slowly down the street, Arcanine butting James playfully in the neck with its nose. Absentmindedly, James clicked his fingers by his waist, and Growly obediently came by his side, as he had been trained to do, and James threw an arm around its thick neck to scratch it behind its ear.

'You're right, Jessie. We'll never make it in time, even if we had a spare balloon. We'd need some extreme speed to get there in agh…'

'Whoaaaaaghohlordaaaaagh…..'

'Jessie, what are you MEEEOOOOWTH!'

 The reason for these rather novel approaches to sentences, it transpired, was that at the mention of 'Extreme speed', Growly's ears had pricked up, and he had shot off at something approaching, rather aptly, the speed of light. James's hand had reflexively clenched in Growly's mane, and his other hand had lunged desperately for Jessie's, who had in turn grabbed Meowth's tail in a vain attempt to anchor them, and then they were off, albeit in a somewhat unorthodox fashion for anyone but Team Rocket.

On a road not so far away, Ash, Misty, and Brock had stopped by for a meal that wasn't quite lunch and wasn't quite dinner that Brock called 'For God's sake, Ash, stop whining.' Togepi and Pikachu were playing in the short grass, and Ash and the others sat with their backs against broad, firm trees amid the dappled sunlight. In short, the typical "relaxing in the wilderness" scene for our quote protagonists unquote. 

'How long does this meal take to make, Brock? It smells great, and Ash brain no work good when hungry.'

'Just a few more minutes, Ash. I just need to finish the honey glaze on this ham, get the new potatoes out of the saucepan, and put the Chocolate pudding with special chocolate sauce into the oven.'

'We don't have an oven.' Misty pointed out. Brock tapped the side of his nose knowingly.

'Or…do we?'

Misty wasn't entirely sure how to answer that, and besides, she didn't think she liked where this conversation was heading, so she changed topic to the first thing that caught her attention.

'Does anybody else hear that?' she asked. Pikachu cocked an ear, which is altogether different to cocking a gun, although if you yanked Pikachu's tail it is theoretically possible that Pikachu would fire something at you. Brock listened carefully.

'Like a high pitched wail coming this way?' he hazarded. Ash scrambled to his feet.

'Maybe it's a rare Pokémon!' he exclaimed without basis in fact or logic, rushing out into the path. 'And I'm gonna capture it!' He swivelled his cap around to the back, a habit he had kept from his days living on the mean streets if the Ghetto of Pallet Town, yo. Alternatively, he just did it because he was sadly mistaken it made him look cool. At any rate, he was rebound back into the clearing by a large orange and white blur that was trailing a couple of familiar panic-stricken, wailing people and a Meowth in some sort of living chain. 

'LOOKS LIKE TEAM ROCKET'S RIDING OFF AGAAAAAAIIIIInnnnnn….'

They heard before the blur vanished over a hill, accompanied by a little white spark and a noise that can best be described as "Ting". Misty and Ash looked in the direction they had vanished in for a couple of moments, nonplussed. Brock may have been nonplussed as well, but it's kind of hard to tell. 

'Well.' Misty said eventually. 'I don't think any of us were expecting that.'

'Or…were we?'

'Just glaze the ham, Brock.' She said wearily.

'How can you be thinking about food at a time like this?' Ash demanded, doing one of his mental 180degree turns. 'Team Rocket must have stolen that Arcanine off of somebody! We have to get it back!' he exclaimed, doing that heroic pose he does.

'Pika!' said Pikachu, and feel free to make of that statement what you will.

'…Right now?' asked Brock.

'Yeah! There's not a moment to waste!' Ash proclaimed. Brock looked around wildly, ham held in oven mitts. 

'Okay, I'll just find somewhere to leave the ham and potatoes and pudding. The Pokémon around here'll probably eat them-'

'Wait, there's food? Let's eat!' Said Ash cheerfully, sitting down and discarding his backpack. 'It smells great, and Ash brain no work good when hungry.' He grabbed the offered plate from Brock and began to wolf down the meal, pausing midway to look up with a choked scream and declare that Team Rocket had stolen the brim of his cap, until Misty pointed out that it was still on his head back-to-front. He handed back the now empty plate, patting his stomach.

'Wow, that was great! What did you say about pudding? Because after pudding we should really go after Team Rocket.'

'I'll just get it out of the oven.' Brock promised, putting down the trio of empty plates. Ash blinked, shook his head, looked at his watch, pointed his Pokédex at Misty to see if it came up with anything, and then remembered who he was and what he was doing.

'We have an oven?'

TO BE (Worryingly) CONTINUED!

Well, did you enjoy? Either way, let me know!

Next Chapter: SOME STUFF HAPPENS! Possibly pertaining to some loose kind of plot!

 DC


	3. Filler? I 'ardly knew 'er!

Chapter 3: This is the Greatest and Best Fic in the World' (Tribute)  
  
Hey, guys and gals. Sorry for the delay that occurred in this third chapter of BWARAO, but I wasn't happy with the way this particular chapter was going, so after much umming and ahhing I decided to start it again from scratch, hence the delay. Whilst I'm rewriting it, attending an anime convention and doing work for Uni, amongst other incidentals, here is some irreverence I threw together to stop you from bludgeoning me to death with Pokéballs.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon, other than in the being-a-Nintendo-addict sense of the world, and nor do I own Tenacious D. However, I do have the power to kill a yak. From two hundred yards away. WITH MIND BULLETS!  
  
We join our heroes at an unspecified time in a location just as hazily specified, if not more so. Closer observation, ie any observation at all, shows us that the sky is dark, and our heroes are being chased through some streets by a load of the old bill, which helps somewhat with location.  
  
Meowth: Dey're closin' in on us! Wadda we do, Jessie?  
  
Jessie: Quickly, down this blind alley!  
  
James: Oh, fiddlesticks! It doesn't go anywhere! We're...trapped!  
  
Jessie: Not if we run...UP the walls!  
  
Even the police stop at this line of thinking.  
  
Meowth: ...Or, we could make a distraction...  
  
James: Do you know, that was remarkably close to the Queen's English.  
  
Meowth: Yeah, but only 'cause it's hard ta get an accent inta that particular collection of woids on the written page...  
  
Jessie: Sshh, here they come! James, do you still have that guitar we stole just now?  
  
James: *Looks at the guitar clutched in his hands, and hazards a guess* Um, yes?  
  
Jessie: Then I have a plan!  
  
Concordantly, when the police charge around the corner, they are confronted with the two Rockets leaning on stuff. James against a wall, teasing a few chords out of a guitar, and Jessie against a dumpster, tapping her foot idly. Both are dressed in casual jeans and shirts.  
  
Jessie: These are the greatest and best 'Mon in the world... Tribute. Long time ago me and my lover James here, we was hitchhiking down a long an' lonesome road. All of a sudden, there shined a shiny demon in the middle of the road. AND HE SAID!  
  
Meowth: *leaps onto the top of a dustbin wearing a mock-up Pikachu tail* Pika-piika Pikachu, pi-pikachu!  
  
Jessie: Well me and James, we looked at each other, and we said... 'OK'. And we used the first 'Mon that came to our hands, just so happened to be the best 'mon in the world, they were the best 'mon in the world... *Releases Lickitung* Lick!  
  
James/Jessie: Look into his eyes and it's easy to see, one on one means you, two on one means we, we fight unfairly...Once every two or three hours or so, Victribell eats James when he tells him 'Go' its too bad we know- owww...  
  
James: Needless to say, the mouse was stunned. Lightning cracked from its wicked tail, and the mouse was done. It asked us – * Releases Victribell, muffled shrieks. Jessie deftly catches the guitar*  
  
Meowth: Pika-pika?  
  
Jessie: And we said 'Nay! They are but 'Mon...FIGHT ON-  
  
James:Whoaaggaahohgodaaah-aaa—aaa-aaah-Ohwoahohaagh! *Pulls Victribell off and gets it to attack the police officers with Vine Whip*  
  
Jessie: These are just the greatest 'Mon in the world, yeah, and this here is their tribute! Thought that we'd show you the greatest 'Mon in the world, yeah, this here's a tribute, ow-woah, to the greatest 'Mon in the world, oh-right, they are the greatest 'Mon in the world, oh-right, diddle- diddle best, mother-bleeping greatest 'Mon in the world...  
  
Meowth: Mudda-bleepin'?  
  
Jessie: Shut up and RUN!  
  
Our amazingly vocal Anti-heroes bolt it past the paralyzed policemen who are trying to move and making noises just like The D make in that really fiddly bit in the middle of the song that I can't be bothered to try and put into actual words. So there. Hey, I bet you didn't know that Jessie could play the guitar whilst running away, did you? But she is, which proved you wrong.  
  
Jessie: And the peculiar thing is this, my friends, the 'Mon we used on that fateful night didn't actually look anything like these 'Mon! This is Arbok's tribute, as well as for Weezing, and I wish James ran faster, just a matter of escaping, Good Lord, gotta love us, so surprised to find you can't stop us,  
  
James: Hey, it looks like they've stopped chasing us!  
  
Jessie: Already? But I hadn't even finished the song!  
  
Meowth: Yeah, but waddaya gonna do?  
  
Next chapter: THE STORY RESUMED! THE ANIME CON ATTENDED! THE TWERPS CHASE! THE ROCKETS DON'T MUCH NOTICE! JESSIEBELLE SENDS THE GOONS! THE ROCKETS DON'T MUCH NOTICE!  
  
Thanks for reading, and I apologise for the delay in the actual chapter three, but bear with me. This chapter's props (Yo-yo from da Pallet town hood, word) go out to Charles Rocketboy, BouncyBluePenguin, and Cosmic Mewtwo. Bo Shizzle in all your Hizzle. 


End file.
